Although it's been said many times, many ways
by gina grey
Summary: As Christmas approaches, their thoughts turn to each other. Eriol x Tomoyo two-part fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **I was in the mood to write something for Christmas. This fic doesn't really have anything to do with Christmas, but it takes place during the Christmas season. It will be in two parts, the second published hopefully on Christmas Day itself. Hope you enjoy it, and Merry Christmas!

* * *

When he'd arrived in May, the view from his study had been masses of wisteria in full bloom. The sight of the tiny purple flowers had been a source of both comfort and heartache. Now his view of the garden is obscured; through the large French windows, all he can see is snow falling in drifts.

The skies were still clear when he'd woken up that morning, but the nip in the air had told him it would snow that day. And indeed it has. He lets himself be hypnotized by the steady, even snowfall for a minute, his mind wandering. The first snow of the season always has him inexplicably melancholic, dredging up memories from decades past. This time, though, the memories that sting are of a time more recent. The last time he'd seen snow had been in Japan, slightly less than a year ago.

He pulls his gaze from the window and turns back to the scripts on his lap, trying to tune out the faint sounds of stomping and yelling emanating from somewhere downstairs, where Ruby Moon is presumably trying to force feed Spinel Sun some sugar-laden treat. This happens every year, when Ruby Moon begins her festive baking. In the chaos, all is as it should be. And yet…

And yet.

He wrenches his mind back to 18th century Eastern Philosophy. The sooner he finishes grading these papers, the sooner he can join in the Christmas festivities. Granted, Christmas is still a week away, but as far as Ruby Moon is concerned, the entire month of December is simply one long festive extravaganza. Spinel is ambivalent about the holidays, but enjoys the smell of spiced mulled wine and lounging in front of the fireplace. They are still waiting for him to put up the Christmas tree; he has not been in the mood, but thinks he will join them today, if anything to distract himself from his thoughts.

The first couple of months after leaving Japan had been somewhat lonely and difficult, but he'd coped by immersing himself in work and making new friends, and eventually got used to living in England again. However, now that the year is drawing to a close, and the holidays are here, his mind returns to the people he's left back home. To him, home is still Japan. That is where _she_ is.

He really shouldn't have said anything. If he hadn't, where would they be now? Possibly at the skating rink, their eyes meeting over mugs of hot chocolate as they laugh at Yamazaki-san's antics and Mihara-san's retorts. Possibly baking cookies together, _Love Actually_ playing in the background. Possibly shopping together for a Christmas gift that will make both Sakura-san and Li-san blush.

Instead, he'd been greedy; he had opened his big mouth and scared her off. She'd looked so serene and happy at the cherry blossom viewing party, and when she'd turned those dark, laughing eyes on him, he couldn't help himself. He had screwed things up. He should have just kept his mouth shut.

If he had stayed, he might have gone half out of his mind wanting to kiss her and being unable to do so, but that is better than being miles away from her, on self-imposed exile. Or perhaps it isn't quite accurate to call it exile. The invitation from Oxford had come at an oddly fortuitous time, offering him an escape route after her silent rejection – an escape route he'd gratefully taken in the hopes of lessening the awkwardness between them with physical distance.

Still, he knows that he would have stayed had she asked him to.

* * *

As the bleak landscape flashes past her eyes, she wonders, for the umpteenth time, just what she's doing here. Whether she'd already had this plan somewhere at the back of her mind when she'd innocently remarked to her mother that it might be nice to spend the remainder of their winter holidays in London, and when she'd casually asked Sakura-chan for his new address, ostensibly to send a Christmas card. Whether she'd counted on her mother being inevitably pressed upon to look into their London office for a couple of days. Whether she'd known that she would take the opportunity to board a train to the English countryside.

_So this is the country of his birth. These are the pale grey skies and vast plains that he grew up looking at. And this is where he has chosen to return. _

This is not her first time in England, but it is her first time visiting an area of England outside of London. How far away Oxford is from Tomoeda – a half an hour drive, a thirteen-hour flight, and a two-hour train ride.

She'd not known before how much physical distance could hurt, could create a longing so deep and so profound that she finds herself indulging in utterly maudlin things she would be ashamed to admit to – like mentally calculating what time it is in England and wondering what he could be up to at that moment, and drinking the Lady Grey tea that he first introduced her to, to feel as if he were still there with her.

Now she does.

It keeps her up at night sometimes, remembering what a coward she had been. She hadn't even gone to send him off, making up some excuse at the last minute about work. A mixture of shame and wanting to avoid the pain of saying goodbye had kept her away. But she later learned that not going hurt even more.

So here she is, every minute bringing her closer to the man who has been occupying her thoughts for the last eight months – longer, if she's being honest with herself.

The snack cart comes rattling down the aisle, but she politely declines. The doubts that assail her mind have diminished her appetite. What if he's not home? What if he is? What if he's changed his mind? What if he's back with Mizuki-sensei?

She struggles to rein them in. It is ridiculous to be fretting over a million and one possibilities when she is already here. So what if he's back with Mizuki-sensei or even seeing someone else? She's just here to say hi to a good friend, after all. She still thinks of him as one, even though they haven't properly spoken in months. She wonders if he still regards her as one, after what had happened. She wouldn't.

While his confession had made her chest explode with terror and joy in equal parts, years of polite upbringing had allowed her to school her face to remain impassive. She couldn't find the words to reject him though. Instead, she had frozen, clamped up, pretended it hadn't happened. She tries not to recall the glimmer of hope in his eyes, and how that had quickly gone out, to be replaced by something like a dull understanding.

She thinks now that she would give anything to see those deep, dark blue eyes once again, their expression warm and sweet rather than pained or carefully blank, as they had been the last few times she'd seen him.

Her eyes widen as she notices the white flurries outside her window. She has to resist the urge to clap in delight. It will make getting to his house that much harder, but she has always loved the snow and taken snowy days as a good omen.

The last time she had experienced snowfall had been last winter. It had started to snow lightly when they were walking home from dinner with their friends. Some flakes had landed on his lashes, and she'd found herself wanting to gently brush them away with her fingertips. His eyes were the colour of the sky at midnight, and oddly enchanting. That was the day she'd first entertained to herself the thought that she might be falling for her friend.

But the idea had frightened her more than she was willing to admit, and when he'd confessed to her just as the Sakura blossoms were beginning to bloom, she had not come any closer to accepting it. There were too many complications, too many things that could go wrong. She'd been hurt falling in love before; her first experience had convinced her – never again. In other words, she had erred on the side of cowardice.

Which was just as well. He'd informed them a couple of weeks later that he'd accepted a teaching position at Oxford University and would be moving back to England shortly.

It had seemed unbelievable, that he would be leaving them. Leaving her. She had no right to be upset, she told herself. It was not like she had any claim on him. So she had plastered a smile on her face and congratulated him like the rest of them, maintained the smile even when Li-kun pulled her aside thereafter to ask if she was okay. She'd not told him about the confession. She'd not told anyone.

Her throat threatens to close up whenever she thinks about how their friendship seems to have crumbled, leaving in place this strange, fragile, awkward thing fraught with polite conversation and too-wide smiles. She wants – no, needs – to fix it.

_That's what she's here to do, _she tells herself. She's here to right the wrong.

* * *

It is late afternoon now, and the snow shows no signs of abating.

Something about seeing it fall so beautifully and so unceasingly, blanketing his garden in a white canopy, has him unhinged.

He misses her, dammit. He should be on a plane to Japan right now. He should be- wherever she is. He has not allowed himself to look in on her, no matter how tempting it has been at times. Not even a little peek. For all he knows, she could be seeing someone now. She could be vacationing in Cancun with a guy she met at work.

He wonders that he has not heard anything about Daidouji-sama's annual Christmas party. Is there no party this year, or have they decided not to extend him an invitation because he is so far away? He would have booked a flight in a heartbeat. Any excuse to see her again. It has been months, and what on earth had made him think that coming to Oxford would be a good idea? Did he think that the distance would dull his feelings? If anything, he's come to realize that the adage _absence makes the heart grow fonder_ holds painfully true.

God, he is pathetic. It's not like they have ever been anything more than friends. And even on that count, it's been months since they'd exchanged anything more than pleasantries over text message.

_Have you arrived in England safely? _

_Yes, thanks for asking. _

_Happy birthday! I hope you don't have to work today. _

_Thanks for remembering! Unfortunately we're in a busy period now, so I'm spending my birthday buried under a pile of paperwork. _

_I won't keep you then. Make sure to have a nice dinner though._

_I'll be sure to do :)_

The words they don't say hang heavily in the space between them, and these pleasantries are nearly worse than silence. No, nothing is worse than silence. Still, the pleasantries are not much better.

He tosses the script he has spent the last half hour staring blankly at onto the table and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. This is not working. Being cooped up inside is wrecking havoc on his sanity.

"I'm going for a walk," he calls out to his guardians, hastily putting on his coat and scarf, and grabbing an umbrella.

He opens the door, bracing himself for the chilly air.

And gapes. His imagination must be supplying his brain with his deepest yearnings, for there is no way that Daidouji Tomoyo – the very girl who has been haunting his sleeping and waking thoughts – is actually standing on his doorstep, 9570 kilometres away from her home in Tomoeda.


	2. Chapter 2

She stands in front of his front door for a few minutes, deliberating whether or not to actually ring the doorbell. It seems ridiculous to be hesitating now, when she has spent the last two hours making her way very deliberately from London to Oxford, but it is not yet a done deal. It is not too late to back out, she tells herself, to turn tail back to London and tell her mother that she had a nice day touring the charming little university town.

Plus, wouldn't it be rather rude just to turn up unannounced? She should have thought this through properly. She should have sent him a text first, or asked to meet in a cafe.

But here she is in front of his house, and in fact already on his property. The ground is blanketed in snow, even though to her knowledge it had only started snowing for a couple of hours. It would not be the smartest thing right now to call a cab and have to wait for it in the cold.

And he is so close. The thought that he could be somewhere just beyond the closed doors is both calming and exhilarating. Her eyes briefly flutter shut as she remembers his warm, enigmatic smile, that piercing gaze.

She steels herself, fingers poised over the doorbell.

Before she can will herself to push the button, however, the door is flung open.

* * *

For someone standing on his front porch, she seems just as stunned to see him as he is to see her.

"Tomoyo-san… what on earth—how—what are you doing here?"

She is as breathtaking as ever. There are snowflakes glistening in her hair and on her eyelashes and on her coat. Her eyes are wide, her lips parted. He wants to gather her in his arm and never let her go. Instead, he forces himself to remain where he is, standing in the half-open doorway, regarding her in the pale light.

She bites her lip, looking uncharacteristically unsure of herself. "I was in London. I—I'm sorry if I surprised you. I thought of calling earlier, but I wasn't sure, and I really wanted to—to see—to talk… to you, and…"

* * *

It was not supposed to happen like this. She was supposed to be poised and ready. He was only supposed to appear when she rang the doorbell. She had a speech all prepared to be delivered. But here he is in a long grey coat, looking impossibly beautiful, his hair slightly mussed. The nice, rational explanations she has rehearsed escape her as she regards him standing there framed in the doorway, his expression inscrutable.

Instead, she can hear herself babbling like an idiot and stuttering. Stuttering! She wonders what he makes of this.

She must have blinked, because before she knows what is happening, he has crossed the small space between them and crushed her to him.

Whatever she had expected his reaction to be, it was not this. He is kind, and a gentleman, and so she did not expect overt anger (though she has seen him furious before, and that sort of deadly anger is something she hopes never to be directed at her). But neither did she expect… this.

Her heart is pounding. Between her Japanese upbringing and his English one, they've never hugged like this in all their time as good friends. Any hug has always been a casual, split-second affair not actually involving much physical contact. But this… this feels nice. Very nice.

"Eriol," she mumbles into his chest, breathing in the scent of pine that is uniquely his. "I'm sorry." There are so many things she wants to apologise to him for, but the words don't come.

His arms tighten around her. "Don't be. What matters is that you're here. It's good to see you again."

She lets out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Something strange and wonderful is bubbling in her chest.

They pull back slightly from each other, and she swallows as she allows herself to look at him properly now. Nothing in her memories compares to seeing him in person. She forgets just how blue his eyes are. But there are bags under his eyes, and the sharpness of his jawline suggests that he has lost some weight. Her heart clenches. It would be pure arrogance to think that it is because of her, but something tells her that it is.

"No, I really am sorry. I was… I am a terrible person. A terrible friend."

He looks as if he wants to interrupt, but she holds up a hand, indicating that she needs to say her piece. This is what she came here to do, after all.

"To tell you the truth, I'm here because I couldn't stand how we left things. How I left things. I know it's been strange between us, and I… I want to apologise for the way I acted. It was inexcusable. I must have hurt you. And I just… I couldn't let it go on like that." She knows she's rambling again, but she can't help it. "I understand if you don't really want to be my friend anymore, but I was hoping—"

"Don't say that." His voice is lower than she's ever heard it. "I will always want to be your friend, do you understand?"

His eyes are dark and intent, and she sees that he means it. She nods meekly. She feels like any attempt to speak right now might result in her breaking down, and how terrible and embarrassing would that be?

He sighs. "Anyway, I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that."

"I…" She lets the sentence trail off as she realizes that this is the first time they are addressing his confession head-on, and she doesn't know what to say. How can she explain the confusion she had felt, one moment as if she could fly and the next as if she were about to fall off the edge into a deep abyss? How can she tell him about the tumultuous thoughts that crowded her head every time she thought about it, when she can't even come to terms with them herself?

But they have always been able to talk freely and openly about things, and she wants this to be no different. Or to put it more precisely, they have always been able to understand each other, with or without words. That is part of what she enjoys most about being with him. It mostly feels like no effort at all. But this is a whole new area of discussion, and some effort will be needed if they are going to get past it. She tries again. "That is—"

She is startled as he places a warm finger on her lips. "Shh, it's okay. It doesn't matter now."

She gives him a weak smile, moving his hand to the side of her face. "I do want to talk about it though. I just need to… gather my thoughts."

He pulls the door shut behind them. "Shall we take a walk? I'm afraid we won't get much privacy here."

As they meander through the streets, admiring extravagantly decorated houses strung with fairy lights, she tells him about her holiday in London with her mother – inane chatter to put off the difficult conversation for the time being.

She is grateful that he seems to understand her need to talk herself to distraction. He recommends a few pastry shops and Christmas markets in London that he knows she will love. They discuss West End musicals and museums. He tells her about his classes in Oxford, his students and the other teachers.

It is wonderful to finally be talking and laughing comfortably with him again. Though the sky is slowly darkening, she no longer feels the cold. She's so glad she came, that she has got things off her chest, that the awkwardness that had plagued their friendship for the past eight months has somewhat dissipated.

"Will your mother be away long?"

"Till Friday," she says.

"If you don't mind, why don't you stay with us for the next two days until she returns?"

"Ohh, but I've got to head back to London this evening; our hotel and all my things are there."

"We've got plenty of room, and I'm sure we can find you something to wear for the next day or two. It's probably not the best idea to be travelling in this weather. Not to mention, I'm sure Spinel Sun and Ruby Moon would be glad for your company."

It does sound tempting. And the thought of leaving so soon, when she's only just got here, is… disagreeable, to say the least.

"Do stay, Tomoyo-san," he says, and it is his voice, low and urgent, that brings her back to reality.

"Eriol-san…" she begins uncertainly.

"Sorry," he apologises hastily, seeming to recall himself. "I… It's fine. You don't have to stay."

* * *

It feels somewhat surreal, after the months of hell he's been through, to be chatting away with Tomoyo, the snow softly falling around them. His heart feels lighter already. Just seeing her again, and the fact of her coming to see him, gives him hope. Not that she might return his feelings, but that their friendship can be salvaged, that things can go back to the way they once were.

All the things she'd said. He's touched that she treasures their friendship enough to take the train all the way to Oxford while on her holiday to seek him out and clear things up.

Friendship is a bitter pill to swallow when he wants more, but he will take that over her absence any day.

That is why, when he senses the distance between them begin to build again, his first instinct is to recant. "Sorry, I… It's fine. You don't have to stay."

"Eriol-san…" She stops walking suddenly, regarding him seriously.

It's clear that they are no longer talking about her stay. The fact that back in Japan she had simply not said anything at all in response to his confession could be taken as something of a mercy. Although clarity was obviously preferable in the long run, in all honesty he had been somewhat relieved that she had spared him from an outright rejection, which would have been far more painful to bear.

"You can pretend I never said anything. Tomoyo-san, let's just… remain friends."

* * *

_Friends. _That was what she wanted. Wasn't it? _Just friends_ was good. _Just friends_ was safe. Friends could remain in each other's lives indefinitely. Friendship did not run typically the risk of a break up. Eight months ago, she would have given anything for him to take back his confession. For things between them to remain simple and uncomplicated. But now…

She has apologised, and he still wants to be her friend. Mission accomplished. So why does it still feel like something is missing?

_Because that's not all you came for, is it? _

She looks up at him, but his eyes are focused on the distance. "Is that… what you really want?"

The smile he gives her does not quite reach his eyes. "Do I have a choice?"

He must see the irritation that flashes across her face, for he quickly places a placating hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I'll be honest, Tomoyo-san. Do I want to be more than friends? Yes, of course."

Her heart skips a beat at his admission that he still does like her as more than a friend.

"… But I know you don't want that," he continues. "So that's that. I understand. I'm more than happy to be friends with you, Tomoyo-san. I don't want to spoil our friendship by pursuing anything more. I won't be weird about this, I promise."

She swallows. "Can I ask you something? Don't take this the wrong way, but it's always helped me to talk through things with you, and… and I want to understand. You said earlier that you shouldn't have put me on the spot like that. What made you decide to tell me, when you knew that there was a possibility I would say no and that it might make things strained?"

* * *

Despite his reluctance, she seems intent on pursuing this line of inquiry. It had been painful enough eight months ago. What is the point of reopening old wounds?

Still, he supposes that if they are to truly get past it – past the awkwardness, that is; he doesn't think he'll get over her anytime soon – they should discuss it like adults.

He decides to be honest. After all, what is there to lose? They've been to the brink and back. She has come all the way to Oxford to fix things with him; he owes it to her to be as honest as he can be. And it is the ability to talk to her quite openly that is one of the things he cherishes most about their relationship. He just wishes that recalling the incident didn't hurt quite so much.

"To tell you the truth, I probably wasn't thinking. I hadn't intended to say anything. But I got caught up in the moment, I guess. I mean, I thought we had a particular good evening, and you were so—" he coughs, hoping that he isn't blushing. "Well. And I suppose a part of me was hopeful. I regretted telling you almost as soon as I said it. I mean, when it was clear that you… that you didn't feel the same way." He winces. "I never wanted to risk our friendship. But some things are worth taking risks for, aren't they? And I suppose I thought our relationship was strong enough to survive something like that."

"You mean, strong enough to survive a confession that did not result in a relationship?"

"Something like that. To survive expressed feelings that are unreciprocated," he clarifies.

The look on her face is thoughtful, measuring. "Yes, because at that stage, the fall out is relatively small, and there is a larger capacity to move on. But let's say we were to get into a relationship, and later broke up… it would be much harder to remain friends in that situation, wouldn't it?"

His gaze snaps to her. "Well, yes. But—"

"So, what if the real risk to friendship is not so much expressed feelings that are unreciprocated, but entering into a relationship that may not work out? You know, statistically, 78% of relationships end in break up."

She is not looking at him as she speaks, and the things she is saying are throwing him off-kilter. "To be honest, I didn't think that far. To have my feelings reciprocated would already have been enough. And as I said, some things are worth taking risks for. Don't you think?"

She doesn't answer, but he knows she is thinking about it. Something is dawning on him very slowly, prompting him to add, "And anyway, this is all hypothetical." He looks at her very deliberately. "Isn't it?

"Since we are being honest," she begins slowly, "I'll tell you this – the assumption you made based on my response – or lack thereof – to your confession was incorrect. I was then, at the worst, not entirely certain about how I felt. But this risk made my decision at the time clear."

With the revelations that are being made, he is fairly certain that he must be gaping. "And—and now…?"

"The past few months have put things into perspective. I… I think I can say that I'm fairly certain now."

Her eyes meet his unflinchingly, and he reads in those expressive depths something he has long yearned for but never given himself the chance to seriously entertain.

He closes his eyes briefly, and when he opens them he no longer bothers to mask the depth of his feelings for her. "Tomoyo," he says, taking her hands in his, "tell me if I'm just reading into what you're saying because I want so much for it to be true, but do you mean—"

"Yes."

He could probably die happy at this point, but something drives him to push on. Knowing that she feels the same way about him, he cannot just give up. He's certain that he has never wanted anything more in his life.

* * *

She has finally said it. She has finally told him. Where do they go from here? She knows what she would like, and the assurances she needs, but—

"Tomoyo—" his voice cracks. He brings her hands to his lips, warming them with his breath. She feels a jolt run all the way from her hands up to her temples. "As I said earlier, I will always want to be your friend. And if you feel the same way, we will remain friends no matter what happens in the future. We don't have to enter into a relationship right now if that's not what you want. But I do want to be given the chance to persuade you. Say you'll let me."

How can she say no?

Almost shyly, she closes the distance between them, resting her hands on his chest and looking up at him with a small, tentative smile.

That is all the answer he needs, before he brings his lips down to meet hers.

* * *

Author's Notes: Merry Christmas! I'm glad I managed to get Part 2 of this fic up in time. I hope you enjoyed this fic :)

Also, I hope that bit of dialogue towards the end wasn't too confusing. To explain, Eriol had assumed that Tomoyo's rejection of him to be a reflection of her lack of interest. However, it is not that his feelings for her were unreciprocated, but that she was afraid of entering into a relationship with him for fear of risking their friendship. I wrote it in this way because I'd like to think that they are able to understand each other without everything having to be spelled out.


End file.
